comida para la mente

Every night, during and after dinner, Gloria offers us a life lesson. Whether it’s rehearsed, or impromptu, I’ll never know, but I always welcome it with a full stomach and open arms. Tonight, we swapped (does that word look weird to anyone else?) stories about losing all sense of personal space on the subway during rush hour, and better still, how very impossible it was to look away while a mother aggressively palmed her breast out into the stuffy subway air to offer it to a boy (her son) who, I’m nearly positive could tie his own shoes. Though I wouldn’t say I have culture shock, I am definitely spying the cultural differences in all their humbling glory.

After some laughter at the dinner table resulted in a few untimely snorts and a side cramp, Gloria broke life down for us. She told us of the love of her life, of her kids, and of her old ways of holding grudges and easily angering. She taught us to forgive, to respect, and realize that anger and resentment serve no purpose and hold no weight. Every night she serves us comida para el estomago y para la mente. besos.

 

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